Kat Shonsky’s body bore the signs of a lust homicide — blitz-attack head wound, overkill knifework, sexual positioning, the contemptuous placement of the driver’s license. But nothing suggested it was anything but male on female.

“I’m not sure I see overtones, Big Guy.”

He smiled.

“What’s funny?”

“Wherever it leads.”

Glitter and temptation filled the jewelry store’s windows. A spade-faced young man in a dark suit studied us before buzzing us in. Once we entered, he kept his hands beneath the counter.

Milo identified himself and asked for Beth Holloway and the guy relaxed.

“That’s Beth.” Eyeing a petite honey blonde showing a gray velvet tray of cocktail rings to a stooped white-haired man around eighty.

Beth Holloway had large pale eyes, flawless skin, smooth, bronze arms. A mini-collection of bangles circled delicate wrists. She wore a clingy, low-cut taupe dress, enjoyed frequent bends that flashed a freckled wealth of cleavage. The customer’s attention kept shifting between all that skin and the toys on the tray.

She said, “Pretty gorgeous, Mr. Wein. No?”

The old man sighed. “This is always difficult.”

Beth touched his wrist. “You always know what to do, Mr. Wein.”

“If you say so…” He held up a platinum-and-sapphire piece. “What do you think?”

“Perfect, she’ll love it.”

Wein held the ring to the light and turned it.

“Would you like a loupe, sir?”

“Like I know what I’m looking at.”

Beth laughed. “Take it from me, Mr. Wein, these are really great stones. And those are teeny baguettes, not chips.”

A few more turns. “Okay, this is fine.”

“Great! I’ll have it sized and ready for Mrs. Wein in two days. Would you like me to deliver it to your house?”

“No, not this time, I’m going to give it to her at dinner.”

Beth clapped her hands. “So romantic! She’s a lucky woman, Mr. Wein.”

“Depends what day you ask her.”

He left and she turned to us, smoothing her dress. “Hi!”

Milo introduced himself and told her why we were there.

She froze.

Burst into tears. Covered her face with one hand and pressed the other against the countertop.

The man in the dark suit took the tray of rings, locked it up, and looked on curiously.

Milo said, “Sorry to have to tell you.”

Beth Holloway ran toward the rear of the store, threw a door open, and disappeared.

The dark-suited man said, “We’re talking Kat, from La Femme?”

“You know her?”

“Wow,” he said.

Milo repeated the question.

“I went in there a couple of times, maybe get my wife something.”

“Kat waited on you?”

“She was there, but she didn’t do much,” said the man. “It’s her, huh? Weird.”

“What is?”

“Knowing someone who got killed.”

“What can you tell us about her?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying.”

“Saying what?”

The man’s lips screwed up.

I said, “She wasn’t a helpful salesperson.”